By Chance
by wintersalad
Summary: The most frightening thing in the world is luck. What if, during that fateful first year, one muggle-born Hermione Granger saved one pureblooded Draco Malfoy from a wild troll? How would the wizarding world change when Hermione Granger calls in on that one life debt, asking for the friendship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy?
1. Chapter 1

Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." │ Written: 7/15/12 │ Posted: 7/16/12 │ Last Edited: 7/16/12

_**by chance**_

_This is a story about, what if, during that fateful first year where friends and enemies were made and forged, one muggle-born Hermione Granger saved one pureblooded Draco Malfoy from the rampaging of a wild troll. How will the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy react to Miss Granger's call on that one life debt? And most importantly, how would the wizarding war looming ahead end due to her dissociation with one Harry Potter?_

_It would begin, perhaps, something like this:_

_._

Hermione sniffled, half in misery at her dismal situation and half in disdain at her own pathetic self. Really, why was she wallowing in the girl's bathroom on Hallow's Eve all by herself because of _Ronald Weasley_ of all people? Why did she even bother trying to reach out to her peers when they never seemed to appreciate her efforts anyways? Why did she even _care_ that they didn't after all these years?

Huffing, and finally having had enough of her self-pity, the tiny first-year grabbed a final wad of toilet paper and blew noisily into the thin material before flushing all the evidence of her unfortunate breakdown down the hole.

"_Good,"_ she thought, with a semi-forced tone of stern determination.

Smoothing her hands over her robes, she exited her stall and moved to the sink to freshen up. She self-consciously washed away the tear tracks and combed a hand through her unruly hair, hoping that by the time she walked back to the dining hall, the brightness of her eyes and the red on her cheeks would have mostly disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, because she was _not_ going to sigh on top everything else today, she left the safety of the public restroom and made it a half-step towards her destination before she froze.

A troll.

A scream, all girlish and high-pitched, tore through her lungs and out her mouth before she could even register the thought. A troll. At Hogwarts. _Inside_.

She made to rush back into the bathroom, away from the large, towering creature, and back towards what had been her sanctuary for the last half-hour, when she caught a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye.

No, not silver. Blond.

What was Malfoy doing all the way all the way here? But she didn't stop to register that thought either, as she realized she hadn't been the only one to scream and Malfoy, unfortunately, was the one who caught the creature's attention.

She needed to get them away from here _now_.

Dashing faster than she ever thought possible, she ran around the troll's feet until she had an unobstructed view of her school-mate and yelled out the first thing that came to mind.

"_Accio!"_

As some ninety pounds of wizard flew her way, all Hermione could think was _why_ that spell of all spells and just _how_ much worse her day could get.

The two children slammed heavily into the ground, but Hermione was already scrambling to her feet, pulling a dazed Malfoy with her, and yelling out a frightened, "Run!" As the two ran hand-in-hand, neither dared look back at the troll bellowing in anger behind them. But perhaps, due to all the years of bullying she suffered through, Hermione had developed a heightened sense of danger as well as a sharpened observation, and so she noticed even while staring straight ahead towards the end of the corridor, the shadow of a fast-approaching club.

"Move!"

But even as she cried out the warning, she knew that they wouldn't be fast enough. And as if in agreement, her body reacted just as swiftly, shoving the boy by her side as hard as possible, away from where they stood.

And the world went black.

.

AN: Hello! I'm not sure why, but I've been struck by a sudden urge to write. I've been working on many of my other works, some already posted and some not, and while taking a break, was struck by the inspiration of this little story and decided to write it down before it left me. It seems that this will be quite different from many of my other works so far, in writing style more than anything else. Hopefully, this doesn't equate to poorer quality of writing, but I'll most likely edit it later anyways, when I feel up to it.

Being such that it is, I hope you enjoy this.


	2. Chapter 2

Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." │ Written: 7/15/12 │ Posted: 7/23/12 │ Last Edited: 8/16/12

_**by chance**_

Draco Malfoy was an entitled boy and he knew it. He was even, dare he say it, spoiled. He knew he was different from all his peers and never once questioned it. He was a Malfoy, and that was that.

But being entitled and spoiled did not necessarily mean that he grew up never wanting. Oh, he _wanted_. He never _stopped_ wanting. And perhaps that was just a part of being a Malfoy too.

The one thing he wanted more than anything else however, the one thing he could never really remember ever really _having_, was his father's approval. While his mother doted on him, his father always kept him at length, coolly accessing his performance and worth. Never had his father's eyes lit up with pride the way Goyle's did when he flew his first four feet off the ground. And ever since he saw that peculiar phenomenon on that unspectacular afternoon at some unimportant time and place, he _craved_ it.

But alas, Lucius Malfoy was not one who was impressed by much of anything. Instead, he had _expectations_. You either met those expectations, or were found lacking.

And more often than not, Draco wondered if he was the latter.

That wasn't to say that his father didn't love him. So long as he behaved or did as was expected, Draco got everything he could ask for. But that was the only measure he had. And somewhere, deep inside a small _honest_ part of himself, he knew it wasn't enough.

And so, when Dumbledore called for everyone to return to their rooms, Draco grinned at his two companions and nodded discretely down the hall. What better way to get the recognition he desired from both his peers and his father than by beating a troll his first year? He'd show that Potter for turning _him_ down.

And perhaps, his father will finally see that Draco was enough. No, _more_ than enough for a son.

And really, how hard could it be to beat a dumb troll? He'd learned about them before, and really, they didn't seem all that bright or strong, especially against magic.

But when they finally caught up to the smelly beast, Crabbe and Goyle hightailed out of there.

And left him alone with a giant mountain troll.

He'll never remember exactly what happened after that. Everything happened way too fast. Somehow, he was rooted to the spot even as he felt Crabbe and Goyle disappear from the corridor and he might have had screamed like a little girl, but in hindsight, it probably was just the mudblood. He couldn't believe he let that filth touch him!

But yes, back to the point. Crabbe and Goyle, his two supposed bodyguards-slash-friends ran out on him and left him to the mercy of one giant troll with a giant club and of all people and things, _Granger_ comes to his rescue by throwing a bloody _summoning_ charm at him. Then, she had the gall to _touch_ him and drag him with her like a bloody giant, before _shoving_ him away from her like she _hadn't_ been the one to grab at him in the first place!

"Ow! What's _wrong_ with you Granger!"

But then, as he turned to glare at the girl, he felt his face pale and blood run cold. Granger, the dirty little annoying know-it-all, was on the floor, limbs askew at odd angles and blood seeping from her body at a steady pace. Draco had never seen so much gore in his life.

And for once, he felt something for someone other than himself.

Fear.

"Granger! Granger, get up!"

He'd never seen someone die before, and honestly he had no wish to start now, regardless of the threats and lies he sometimes threw around carelessly. But more than that, he didn't want to die _himself_. And Draco knew, somehow, that he'd never get out of this alive just by himself.

Curse Crabbe and Goyle.

But even as his eyes widened while he watched the ugly beast gear up for another round of beat-the-mudblood, he could do nothing but hold his breath. In fear. In anticipation. In dread.

A shoe hit the smelly creature's head.

"Hey! Dumb and ugly!"

Draco turned his head in disbelief towards the two boys panting breathlessly about a yard away. It was Potty and the Weasel.

The troll swiveled in confusion, the shoe doing barely any damage but arouse its curiosity, but somehow, it seemed to register the insult a minute later and roared in anger as it swung around in a wide arc, turning its body away from Granger and moving towards the redhead. Potter took advantage of the distraction and made to move towards the girl bleeding out on the floor, but the troll snorted in irritation and swung back up with its club, keeping him away.

"Whoa!" the boy-who-wouldn't-die yelled, barely dodging the swing. "Ron, _do_ something!"

"Like _what!_"

"I don't _know_, just do it!"

Rolling his eyes at the imbeciles, Draco discreetly edged away from the chaos, eyeing Granger and the troll surreptitiously.

"_Gryffindors."_

But just as he was about to pass by the prone form of the girl who had probably saved his life, not that he'd ever admit it, he heard the Weasel yell out, "_Wingardium Leviosar!"_

Incredulous, he tore his eyes away to stare at the dismal display of one Ronald Weasley coughing up ash as his botched spell backfired. Really, what was Weasley trying to do? _Hover_ the troll to death?

But the Weasel's little trick did more than kick up a little dust- it aggravated an already pissed-off mountain troll. Thundering with fury, the stupid thing swung its club around wildly, smashing into the wall on its left, before swinging again back down between the two Gryffindors. The castle shook in protest at the abuse and debris began to fall atop of all four first-years. Somehow, during the continued fray, they all gathered within a foot of the other, the floor completely torn around them with wreckage blocking their escape, and all within reaching distance of the troll's wrath. The three boys stared in terror as the troll gave a semblance of a smirk as it saw its victims all gathered so neatly and raised its club up high.

"I told you," a scratchy, yet still soft, voice muttered from the floor. "It's _Wingardium Levios_a_, not Levios_ar_."_

All three boys witnessed, mouths agape, as the troll's club slipped out of his grip and suspended in the air above his head.

But just as abruptly as Hermione Granger entered into consciousness, she just as quickly left it, and with that, the club fell along with her, right onto the troll's head.

With the troll following soon after.

"_Merlin, the mudblood _did_ save him. Bloody hell, she saved _all _of them."_

.

AN: This feels so fast-paced. Is it going too fast for anyone? I'm not sure if it is good or bad, since I suppose it does portray the action and sense of urgency in these two chapters. Of course, it just may be that I'm going very fast with this story in general, being as this is a different writing style and effort of mine in attempts to just write it all out as quickly as possible. Let me know how you feel about it please! Again, I'll probably edit it in its entirety sometime in the very far future.

On another note, thank you for the kind reviews, and I'd like to reassure everyone, that I have all intentions of continuing this story. Thank you for your support.


	3. Chapter 3

Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." │ Written: 7/16/12 │ Posted: 9/16/12 │ Last Edited: 9/16/12

_**by chance**_

"Potter! What is the meaning of this?"

Still dazed by all the adrenaline, Harry blinked towards the approaching figures, trying to register their presence and identities.

"I asked you a question, boy!"

Snapping to attention, having finally registered to whom that hateful and mean voice belonged to, Harry frowned at the potions master before replying, "It's the troll, sir."

"I can see that! What-"

"Now, now, Severus," the headmaster interrupted. "Let the young man speak."

Seeing his professors' expectant gazes, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say? That Ron was being a royal prat and made one of their own house-mates, a _girl_, cry alone for a good part of the evening? That said house-mate, having been away from the feast, wouldn't have known about the troll, and that he, they, were what? Trying to save her? Instead of, noting the disapproving frowns, going to a professor or even a prefect?

No matter what he said, it wouldn't end well.

A startled gasp caused Harry to glance towards his Head of House, as she seemed to have finally caught sight of Hermione. Face pinched in worry, he followed her line of sight to the bravest girl he ever met and felt shame and regret sink deep into his bones.

"We must get Miss Granger to the infirmary immediately!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. With a wave of her wand, she locked the broken girl in place to prevent further injury and levitated her in the air before her. "I trust you all have the situation at hand. I'll leave this to you, professors." And with that, the woman marched briskly away towards the medical ward, tiny first-year floating behind her.

Witnessing the terrible injury the girl sustained, Albus Dumbledore frowned as he observed the situation more keenly.

Three boys, two Gryffindors and one Slytherin. Zero injuries. All this versus the one girl and one troll, both unconscious and maimed to different degrees.

Various scenarios played out in his mind, some better than the others, and some worse. The troll was not entirely a big surprise, but having students involved, particularly _these_ students, _was_. Though, to be honest, it was perhaps not Harry Potter or even Mr. Weasley that surprised him so much as it was Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger.

"Mr. Potter," the headmaster called gently to the distracted boy. "Would you please give us an idea as to what has happened?"

Fisting his hands in his robes, Harry replied ever more gently, "Hermione, sir. Hermione saved us from the troll."

Shocked, both professors gave a slight jerk. Of all the possible answers that they may have expected, this was not one of them. Intrigued, but more apprehensive, both men stayed silent as their minds whirled with possibilities and consequences. Observing the three boys in front of them, both wizards wisely kept their speculations to themselves for now.

"Could you please elaborate for me, Mr. Potter? How was it that the four of you came across the mountain troll at all?"

"Well," and here the boy slid a guilty glance to his friend. "We, uh, that is to say Ron and I, noticed Hermione wasn't at the Gryffindor table when Professor Quirrell announced the troll and so…. we came to warn her?"

Honed from years of practice, not that one really needed any skill to pick up the guilt and omissions, Severus Snape sneered at the headmaster's new golden boy of the generation. Never had he witnessed any behavior that would suggest the two Gryffindors before him would take any such risk or effort for their fellow house-mate. In fact, it was _highly_ likely that the two boys were responsible for the girl's injury in the first place, especially considering the kind of father Potter had and the Twin-Terrors the Weasley boy has as brothers.

"That was very brave of you, my boy," Albus nodded contemplatively. Glancing at Ronald Weasley, Albus smiled genially before settling his eyes on the young Draco Malfoy. A curious expression replaced the headmaster's face and he queried, "And you, Mr. Malfoy? How did you find yourself in these particular circumstances?"

"Perhaps," the head of Slytherin spoke while stepping forward, effectively shielding Draco from the headmaster's eyes. "It would not be remiss if we all took a trip down to the infirmary first." Anticipating Albus's objections, Severus continued. "We could retrieve the full story from Ms. Granger while Madame Pomfrey takes a look at Mr. Potter and company," he advised, knowing full well that the Madame would allow no such thing.

Catching Harry's eyes moving down the corridor, Albus took in the appearances of his first-years, all who appeared to still be somewhat in shock. Displeased with the situation, he nodded and swept his robes behind him and took to follow his transfiguration professor down towards the infirmary.

It might be best to wait for Miss Granger to awake for the full story in the end. Especially if one of Severus's own was in the picture. That man was perhaps even fiercer in protecting his own snakes than Minerva was with her own cubs after all.

.

Poppy Pomfrey never ceased to be amazed at the amount of trouble children could get into at a magical institution that allowed them to roam free. But truly, this perhaps beat all the other atrocities by far.

A troll? In Hogwarts? Why she never!

Honestly, the girl gave her a fright. This might very well be one of the most violent cases out of all her patients during her post at Hogwarts. Magical injuries tended to be much cleaner more often than not, at least magical injuries of the preparatory school kind (they were, of course, usually a touch more complicated and no less dangerous or severe than physical injuries). The wizarding world was hardly ever physical and the closest contact injury would be perhaps quidditch. It was a miracle that the girl survived! For a first-year to take a beating by a fully-grown mountain troll? Really, how terrifying the thought was, that perhaps just a little further to the left, or any deeper the blow, Hermione Granger may not have been with them now. As it was, the girl must have unconsciously shielded herself in some extremely effective way to have made it. A curious and perhaps worrying observation.

Mending the last of her bones and having taken care of all the most fatal wounds, the nurse parted the curtains to retrieve her potions. The poor dear was in for a world of hurt when she woke.

"How is she, Poppy?"

Not pausing in her stride, the matron replied, "She'll make it. Fortunately, you made it here with her on time. Usually with injuries like these, I wouldn't suggest moving, but you made the correct call in getting her attention as soon as possible and did a fine job in immobilizing her first." Placing a hand on the back of her friend's shoulder in support, she added softly in passing, "You did good, Minerva."

Letting out a shuddering breath, Minerva held back the tears that threatened to spill. "I _told_ Albus that it wasn't a good idea to hide it here!"

"Hush, Minerva. It does no one any good now."

Pursing her lips, the aged professor sank into the cot besides the small first-year, watching as her friend fluttered besides her.

"Not two months, Poppy," she whispered. "Not two months, and one of our own children nearly died today. The war that we fought so hard to never let these children see, are we going to be bringing it to them now?"

Neither woman answered the soft, sad question.

She didn't know how long she sat there watching her friend work, but she soon heard the footfalls of those approaching the infirmary. Likely, Poppy did as well, but she did not look up from her patient until they stepped into her ward.

"Albus!"

"Good to see you again so soon, Minerva, if not for the unfortunate circumstances," he began. "Good evening, Madame Pomfrey. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to take a look at our boys here for a moment," and so saying, the headmaster pushed forth two stiff Gryffindors towards the matron.

"Oh! Well let's see here."

Rushing to her newest patients, Poppy quickly scanned all three boys in the room before pushing them all to be seated on one cot opposite of where the resident transfiguration professor was currently standing from her seat. Immediately, regardless of their mental state, the boys scooted as far as possible from each other on the cot to the right of Miss Granger, Gryffindors to one side and Slytherin to the other. Shaking her head at the trivialities of the young, she turned on her heels to grab three small bottles of light blue-grey potion before heading back to hand one to each boy.

"It's nothing serious," she reported to the professors at large as she kneeled to heal the few cuts and bruises marring their skin. "Just mainly shock and a few scrapes here and there."

They all waited in silence, watching as Madam Pomfrey worked her magic.

"How is Miss Granger?"

Surprisingly, it was one Severus Snape who asked the question. Ignoring the shocked expressions on everyone's faces, even or especially his god-son's, the Head of Slytherin looked steadily at Madam Pomfrey for an answer.

"She was a close call, but she'll make it through the night."

There was a collective breath of relief from all three boys on the cot, before all three glared at each other and scooted further away into their respective corners.

"I was hoping that Miss Granger would be able to help shed some light on tonight's events."

"Don't you _dare_, Albus Dumbledore! That girl just suffered major injuries and endured massive healing- she'll do nothing but rest and recover until I say so!"

Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, Dumbledore responded, "Of course, Madame Pomfrey. As it should be. I was merely inquiring as to when that may be."

Leveling a suspicious glare at the old wizard, the healer crossed her arms and stiffly replied, "When she is good and ready, and not a moment before."

Nodding, as if expecting the answer, he conceded. "Would you be so kind as to send word to my office when she is?"

"I will," she sniffed. "Now I bid you all good night. The children will stay overnight so I can monitor them."

"Of course. Good night Madame Pomfrey."

"Good night."

And as all and one filed out the medical ward, thoughts deep and troubled, not one wizard or witch was alert enough to catch the meaningful, warning stare Severus Snape imparted on Draco Malfoy.

.

AN: Happy Rosh Hashanah!


	4. Chapter 4

Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." │ Written: 8/3/12 │ Posted: 9/23/12 │ Last Edited: 9/18/12

_**by chance**_

He had left for Malfoy manor immediately after Albus dismissed him.

There appeared to still be a few guests lingering around, but he paid them no mind besides the occasional nod. He was looking for Lucius, but the man was not anywhere where he normally would be found. Impatient, anxious by the urgency of the matter, he snapped his fingers for a house-elf.

"How may Dobby helps the Professor?"

Not bothering to even sneer at the creature, he demanded, "Go find me Lucius. Tell him I need to speak with him immediately. It concerns Draco."

And without even bothering to see if the elf understood the order, or if it knew where to find him, he turned on his heel and walked briskly into Lucius's office. Upon closing the double doors, he started immediately on the privacy charms, layering one atop of the other, weaving them securely around the room. He did not stop until the Malfoy patriarch walked in at a leisurely pace.

One look at the man and he quickly changed his mind.

Snapping his fingers once more, he called the same elf, and added, "Do the same for Narcissa. Now."

"I believed that you turned down our invitation for our company this evening, old friend."

Walking over to the liquor cabinet, Lucius reached for two glasses and moved to pour them each a drink.

A hand swiftly appeared over the top of the rim, preventing the action.

Lifting a perfectly shaped brow at the long fingers stopping him, Lucius did not turn to face his guest, his pause enough to voice his question.

"I believe that drinks should be refrained until after our discussion."

"What's happened to Draco, Severus?"

Eyes gliding across the room, the Hogwarts professor took in the Lady Malfoy. Unlike her husband, she seemed to grasp the seriousness of the situation and moved straight to the heart of matters.

Something must be very wrong indeed if Severus called for both of them before the party had even died out.

"Perhaps you would both like to add on your own privacy spells before I begin- I assure you this is a most grave matter concerning not only my godson," and here his eyes left Narcissa's and sought out Lucius's. "But also the Malfoy heir and the future of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy."

Gasping, Narcissa immediately set to strengthening the wards around the room. Face pinched, his features set at a glower, Lucius watched his wife, knuckles white, still grasping the bottle of expensive elf-wine. As Narcissa finished up, Lucius finally moved, leaving the bottle on the countertop and walked over to the center of the room, adding on his own spells, the majority of which were much more darker in nature and consequence than either Severus's or Narcissa's own.

All three stood at center, in full circle. For a moment, no one spoke, and each communicated to the other the way only Slytherins could – the way Severus did when warning Draco not to speak of tonight to _anyone_ until he had seen him. In that moment, they all accessed each other and estimated the value of tonight's exchange of words in their minds, preparing themselves for the worst and scheming for the best.

"Draco was attacked by a troll."

Narcissa gasped and started, but Severus quickly continued on, looking intently at Lucius.

"He was attacked while in the company of the Potter boy."

The Malfoy patriarch did not give any indication that any of the information affected him at all. For several long seconds, neither men spoke. Severus silently gauged his old friend for answers while Lucius steadfastly gave nothing away. Both men had in recent days felt the skin of their forearms pinch with suspicion and wariness, but neither was ready to be the first to give any sort of opinion nor intelligence on the matter.

"And is Draco well?" Lucius evenly asked.

Acknowledging the impasse, Severus eyed the aristocrat, "He is alive."

Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief, Narcissa retreated from the tense circle half a step. Still, she retreated no further than that, her eyes and expression still alert and cautious.

"But?" She queried. "There must be something else, Severus, for you to call us both thus so."

His frown deepened as he took in his two friends.

"I believe that Draco owes a life-debt."

That, finally, achieved a reaction.

Eyes wide and emotionally charged, Lucius cried, "To _Potter_?"

"Worse. To a mudblood."

Floored, both parents felt their minds blank from too many thoughts rushing through to be processed. Ignoring his friend's disapproving but understanding stare, Lucius briskly poured himself a stiff drink. He was too preoccupied with maintaining control over the situation to bother with proper etiquette, neglecting to offer Severus a drink in kind and unbothered by his wife's distaste for strong alcohol when absentmindedly passing her his glass to sip.

Weakly, she drowned the rest after a brief hesitation.

"To a mudblood, you say," Lucius repeated while seating himself in his armchair. "There must be a mistake."

Severus replied darkly, "I assure you, I did not concoct this hare-brained scheme myself for fun."

Glaring at the potions master for the veiled accusation, having known the man long enough to recognize it, Lucius let the slight go in favor for the more serious matter at hand.

"How did this happen? Draco would never keep the company of such… uncivilized folk."

"Unfortunately, that is a matter you'll have to discuss with your son on your own time," Severus responded without much remorse. "More important now are the facts. Draco was in mortal peril tonight while in the company of one Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Draco was later saved by one muggle-born Hermione Granger whilst in the company of the other two Gryffindors. All four were later found, along with the defeated troll, by myself, Minerva McGonagall, and Albus Dumbledore. All four were looked over by Poppy Pomfrey and escaped rather unscathed with the exception of one Hermione Granger who is still unconscious as we speak."

The already pale complexions of the heads of the Malfoy family paled even further as the Slytherin Head of House continued his report. For a long time, no one moved, and all that could be heard was the occasional sharpened breath of Narcissa and the ticking of Lucius's old desk clock behind them. Severus's agitation was evidenced by the short manner in which he delivered his lengthy monologue, but he too remained tight-lipped at the end of it.

"You mean to say that my son, Draco, not only owes a _life-debt_, but a life-debt to a _mudblood_, which was witnessed by _the _Harry Potter and a _Weasley_. That this was further confirmed by three _other_ wizard and witches, one of which is Albus Dumbledore, the _one_ man who holds perhaps more power and political clout than myself in our society?"

Severus did not bother answering.

"Does the situation get any worse?" Narcissa dared to ask.

Solemnly, Severus declared, "She's also a Gryffindor."

"Now really isn't the time for jokes, Severus," snapped Lucius.

"No, indeed it is not."

Hesitantly, Lucius voiced his foremost concern, "Has Dumbledore realized this yet?"

The resident Slytherin paused for a moment in thought before replying sincerely, "If he has, he is just as aware of the other possibility."

Glancing sharply at the dark man, Lucius demanded, "What other possibility?" With so many witnesses, some with the power to escape his reach and influence, there was no sound way to neatly deal with the situation should the circumstances truly be so dire.

Noticeably more reserved, Severus held back, observing Lucius's anxious tone and Narcissa's worried features. He had debated with himself over the best course of action – what he must do to do right by his friends, his godson, his Lily, and his own self. But he had already made his choice by coming here immediately and steeled himself for whatever may come as consequent of his actions.

"Promise me one thing: whatever you may do, the mudblood remains unharmed."

Angrily, Lucius sneered, "You would withhold such information from me at such a time? And for what? A mudblood? I can most certainly find the information I need without you, Severus Snape. This concerns the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy! A life-debt! I will not see this House ruined because of a mudblood!"

Bowing his head just barely a fraction, Severus explained, "I have come to you first and foremost with this information as soon as I could, regardless of the tenuous relationship I share with the headmaster and ministry. If, by chance, this particular mudblood comes to any harm, I will be most suspect, for the particulars of this event are known only to those loyal to Dumbledore and two others – one of whom narrowly escaped Azkaban and another who by all means should not be knowledgeable enough to recognize his life-debt." Inhaling deeply, he implored, "I am not willfully doing any wrong by you, old friend. I am merely asking for reassurance that you recognize the risks I took and not, to your will and knowledge, place me in undue danger by recklessly taking action."

Narcissa rested her fingers on her husband's forearm, brushing against the blemish hidden beneath the robes.

"We understand, Severus," she intoned.

Stiffly, Lucius nodded, working his jaw. "Very well. Regardless, I am learned enough in this area to know that placing the wretch in danger would rather more likely harm my own son than the victim I desire."

Severus too nodded, confirming his knowledge of the powerful but bizarre magic of life-debts.

"Dumbledore, if he has realized the possibility of the life-debt, suspects there may be more than one life-debt made tonight."

Curious, Narcissa asked, "More than one?"

With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, Lucius caught on, "The Potter boy and Weasley."

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I managed to buy us some time after the possibility was voiced from Potter's unsuspecting recount of events, delaying Dumbledore's inquiry by suggesting we wait for the girl to wake up and give us her account. Nothing is certain yet – it may be that Draco owes no life-debt, that they all do, or anything in between. However, before anything is concrete, I suggest we plan for all possibilities and courses of actions."

"What would you suggest, Severus?"

Sighing deeply, the weary man strode across the room and poured himself a glass of vodka and scotch. Striding back towards the two, he took a seat opposite of Lucius and sank backwards, taking his time to process his thoughts and words.

"I suppose it is pointless to point out the option of leaving the country."

"Indeed."

"Very well," he ceded. "In any case, we must gather all the facts first. Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to give leave to my students to depart Hogwarts grounds while school is in session. I do, however, have the prerogative to contact my students' guardians and inform and advise them on any matter related to students from my house. As it stands now, I would advise you both to return with me to ascertain Draco's well-being."

"You will do that for us, dear friend?"

"I will do that for my godson."

Leaving her husband's side, Narcissa stepped towards the Slytherin Head of House. Taking his free hand in both of hers, she gave it a gentle, but firm, squeeze.

"Thank you," she whispered.

There was no way of truly confirming a life-debt. You either owed one or did not, and you never quite _knew_ until that debt was called. Neither party had to consent or agree to the magical contract for it to be made, and once made neither party knew the exact terms of the contract binding them. Each life-debt was unique and no one ever knew how the actions of either party, or even those most closely related or influenced by it, could affect it.

This placed the Malfoys in quite the unfavorable position. Life-debts were a type magic no one could control, and in such a sense, that was fair to all involved, for magic, as in nature, strived for balance. The thing was, however, that Malfoys don't _do_ fair. Regardless of whether the mudblood saved their son or not, the fact of the matter was that currently, the one who owed the other was one of _theirs. _And Malfoys do not _owe_ – they _owned._

There was nothing that could be done about the life-debt their son already owed. What they could do, however, was provide themselves with some leverage. It is, in many ways, the name of the game. Severus was placing himself at great disadvantage in order to provide the Malfoys with the leverage they needed to protect their family and he had asked for nothing in return but a promise.

All Slytherins knew promises meant next to nothing.

But this was a quality that the Malfoys treasured in Severus. It was the quality that made him the best candidate for Head of House for Slytherin. And it was the quality that compelled them to entrust and honor him as the godfather of their son and guardian of the future of not only the House of Malfoy, but the futures of all children of Noble Houses, though he may only be a half-blood. He served while guiding, and he guided while serving. Severus was never one to contest the hierarchy of his relationships – he simply never acknowledges them. He recognized where he stood with others and manages to live outside of it. Only fools believe that Severus is ever subservient – the potions master is most often the one making the executive decisions. It is exactly this trait that makes him so disagreeable to society, yet it is also this same quality that draws society's respect.

"When shall we leave?"

"Right now, I'd say, if you could afford to leave your own party."

"I'll stay," Narcissa voiced, though not without noticeable effort. "We mustn't allow anyone to suspect anything."

Lucius nodded in approval.

"That is fine. I trust you to deal with the situation should I not return before the guests depart."

And so saying, the two men disapparated, leaving a distraught mother and harried wife behind.

.

AN: I wonder if the pace is starting to drag? It's strange how the first two chapters, when I wrote it, felt rushed, but looking back and continuing onto the fifth chapter, realize it's still the same night! I suppose I just felt it important to establish the foundations well for the story to build upon. It's also fascinating for me to write the "other side," so to speak, especially with the given premises, and I may have gotten just a little bit carried away in imagining everything. In any case, I feel it is important enough for me to write it all out in order to establish the dynamics and reasons for future relationships, so please bear with me and anticipate what will happen in the following chapters! Do tell me if you feel bored or disinterested however – any opinions or advice you may have actually. Reviews truly do inspire and guide me in my writing most of the time.


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